


Raise Your Glass

by Illeana Starbright (SunlightOnTheWater)



Series: DC Drabble Collections [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: And only in comics do those two tags not contradict themselves, Batkids Age Reversal, Bruce's attempt to fire his sidekicks is much less effective than canon, Canonical Character Death, Court of Owls and all the Related Trauma there, Everyone Needs A Hug, Former Talon Dick Grayson, Gen, Lazarus Pits and all the Trauma that Implies, Protective Siblings, Role Reversal, Sibling Bonding, Sometimes over horrible things that happened to them but still, Talia should not be allowed around children, Temporary Character Death, but not all at the same time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26442208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlightOnTheWater/pseuds/Illeana%20Starbright
Summary: In which Damian Wayne was the first sidekick (and Batkid was such a bad name choice. He's not sure what he was thinking when he didn't correct the peon that stuck him with that moniker) and Stephanie Brown was the first Batgirl (well, Spoiler, but same difference). Neither one of them is sure they're good older sibling material, but it's too late to turn back now.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: DC Drabble Collections [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922062
Comments: 14
Kudos: 158





	1. The "Responsible One"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters:** Damian Wayne as Batman, Tim Drake as Shrike, Jason Todd as Red Hood, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown as Oracle, and Slade Wilson as himself
> 
>  **Summary:** Damian isn't sure why the oldest sibling is always considered the responsible one. Most of the time he would like to murder his siblings, not take care of them.
> 
>  **Warnings:** Blink and you miss it reference to Lazarus Pit Madness, canonical traumatic character death, and daddy issues.

_The “Responsible One”_

* * *

Being an older sibling is hard and, regardless of what Drake’s smirks and Todd’s sneering comments imply, is not a task that he brought down upon his own head. When Mother left him with Father at the age of ten, she had meant it to be a temporary measure while she dealt with the assassins that Grandfather had sent after her. Damian had decided along the way that it was to be a permanent posting for him, and when Mother had returned three years later, after finally managing to convince Grandfather that she was not yet desirous of his position, she had been most displeased to hear of his decision. He had calmly burned his ties to the League and parted from his icy eyed mother for good, though she still appeared in Gotham from time to time to remind him of her immense disappointment. At the time, Damian had not known that he was signing up to play exasperated older sibling to a group of disrespectful squabbling children. He fully understood why Father, back from his time pretending to be one of the dead, chose to spend most of his time on League business, far away from Gotham.

Todd and Drake were arguing, a usual occurrence whenever they were forced to be in close contact for more than a minute. Damian had long ago learned to tune out their arguments, uninterested in listening to them squabble around the topic of who Daddy had hurt worse, Drake with everything that had happened to him because of the League or Todd because of his brutal death at the hands of the Joker. His youngest sibling, however, wasn’t nearly as immune to their knock down drag out fights. As soon as voices began to rise to a furious crescendo, Damian felt a little hand tug gently on his arm.

Richard Grayson was tiny for eleven with wide blue eyes that turned gold when he was frightened or hurt and skin that was several shades paler than it shoulder have been. Those wide eyes stared imploringly up at Damian until the older boy shifted his chair enough that Richard could crawl into his lap. The boy huddled close, burying his face in Damian’s chest as he tries to block out the increasingly violent argument going on behind them. Damian placed a steadying hand between the boy’s shoulders and scowled at the screen in front of him as a message from Oracle eclipsed his view to inform him that a hit on a high profile politician had been taken by Slade Wilson.

Damian would have happily killed Deathstroke months ago, had the man not proven to have an unexpected soft spot for Richard. Damian’s youngest sibling had encountered Wilson during his frantic escape from the Court of Owls roughly a year ago and the man’s actions had bought the boy enough time to get to Todd. From what Damian had uncovered afterwards, Wilson had managed to kill Cobb at least twice before the bastard had broken free, maybe more than that going off the sheer amount of blood there had been in the alley. Cobb had actually been seen outright fleeing from the mercenary, probably realizing somewhere along the way that death for Slade Wilson was just as temporary as it was for any of the Court’s flunkies. That alone kept Wilson alive, at least for now, but Damian always questioned the merit of that during moments like this. Deathstroke was always so troublesome to deal with.

“At least he fucking rescued you,” Jason snarled somewhere behind Damian’s chair. “Instead of leaving you to be tortured and killed.”

Tim snarled, a low animalistic sound, and Damian knew if he turned around he would see both the middle siblings glaring at each other with poison green eyes. He could feel a headache coming on. “Enough,” Damian snarled before Drake could find his words again to respond, whirling around on his chair while still keeping a comforting hand on Richard’s back. “Deathstroke is in town for a hit and his target is attending the Gotham Memorial Hospital charity auction. If you have enough energy to brawl in the cave, you have enough energy to stop him.”

Realistically, Wilson would annihilate them in combat, but Damian was almost willing to sell his soul for five minutes of peace and quiet so he’d deal with having to rescue them when it came to that. He watched two of his brothers glare at each other before storming to their relatively rides and roaring out of the cave. Then he let out a long-suffering sigh. Why did he have to be the responsible one? Days like these made him consider the possibility that staying with the League of Assassins would have been a better choice.

On his lap, Richard relaxed now that the arguing duo had left, nuzzling sleepily against Damian’s ribcage. Almost against his will, Damian felt a small smile quirk up one of the corners of his mouth. Drake and Todd might be absolute pains, but Richard was just too adorable to dislike. “Tired?” he asked and Richard nodded, letting out a squeaky yawn.

“You’re gonna have to rescue them,” the boy mumbled and Damian let out a sigh.

“I suspect I will have to, but this was the most efficient way to halt their inane arguing.” Richard giggled a little at that and then the computer chimed, signaling an incoming calling. “Yes?” Damian inquired, already knowing what it was going to be about.

“Are you aware that Red Hood and Shrike are currently being beat down by Deathstroke the Terminator?” Oracle asked, sounding amused. Stephanie Brown had worked with Damian long enough to know exactly how the two middle siblings had ended up facing down against one of the most dangerous criminals in the world without any backup from Batman.

“Send their location to the cowl,” Damian said with another sigh, standing and carefully depositing Richard in the chair.

“Already done,” Brown chirped brightly and even through the voice modulator she used as Oracle, Damian could tell she was laughing. “Have fun being the responsible sibling.” Then she cut off the connection before Damian had a chance to start swearing at her in Arabic.

“Insufferable cow,” Damian muttered under his breath before fixing Richard with a stern gaze that made the former Talon snap to nervous attention. The little boy seemed to know that Damian would not harm him, but he was still conditioned to respond with absolute obedience to those he saw as his superiors. Breaking him free of that type of thinking was a work in progress. “If you’re tired, go to bed before we return,” he ordered. “I will check on you before I retire for the evening.” Richard nodded once, the motion stiff and uncoordinated, and then curled up into a tired looking little ball in the chair. Damian nodded back and grabbed the cowl off the vast computer console. Despite his order, Richard would still be waiting in the chair when he returned. It was all the motivation Damian needed to finish this quickly and return home.

For a moment he contemplated leaving Todd and Drake to their fate. Richard was having a bad evening, which meant he required far more coddling than usual, but Damian forcibly dismissed the urge. Father would be very displeased if he came home to find two of his children dead, and it had been Damian who had sent them out. That meant some of the guilt belonged to him if they died. Damian sighed for a third time that night and pulled the door of the Batmobile swiftly shut behind him, gunning the engine. Time to go be responsible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Next up, Stephanie Brown is an agent of chaos._


	2. I'm Here For The Entertainment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters** : Stephanie Brown as Oracle, Damian Wayne as Batman, Dick Grayson as Robin, Jason Todd as Red Hood, Tim Drake as Shrike, and Bruce Wayne as Himself and Batman (briefly)
> 
>  **Relationships** : Blink and you miss it reference to Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake
> 
>  **Summary** : The Batfam is the world's best soap opera. Seriously. 
> 
> **Warnings** : Blink and you miss it allusions to psychological conditioning

_I’m Here For The Entertainment_

* * *

“Did you just yell yeet and launch yourself off the top of that building?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” The immediate muffled swearing in Arabic had Stephanie scrambling to mute herself as she tried not to choke on her own laughter. Creating the mantle of Oracle had been a choice forced on her, Batman attempting to retire both Batkid (Damian’s remarkably uncreative original moniker that she still gave him grief over) and Spoiler in a fit of panic after a particularly nasty Arkham breakout when Joker had almost taken out them both. It had been moderately more successful in Stephanie’s case solely because she’d come to the conclusion that she’d much rather gather intel and direct from the shadows than continue to swing around and strain a sore knee that positively ached when the weather turned cold. (Damian, in a fit of complete and utter spite, had created Shrike and gone out anyway.)

Jason was losing it over his end of the comms, clearly having the time of his life watching Batman 2.0 try to manage his new sidekick. Richard Grayson was a complete and utter cutie pie, but he was also an unrepentant troublemaker. Stephanie absolutely approved.

“Besides, I knew you would catch me if anything went wrong,” Dick continued over the soft sound of Damian’s cursing and Stephanie cooed. That was just too sweet, and it was made even better by the way Damian sputtered softly.

“Obviously,” Damian scoffed only to be floored once again by Dick chirping, “Love you too!” Steph was prevented from collapsing in a giggle fit like she really, really wanted to by one of her alarms going off telling her that something hinky was going on (Damian’s aggressively dead facial expression every time she used that particular phrasing made it so, so worth it).

“Sorry to cut into the sappy moment boys,” she said, flipping her mute back off. “But trouble’s afoot at the First Gotham National Bank.” (She mourned the loss of the drama as Batman snapped into action, barking orders. The Batfam was her absolute favorite soap opera and she was always sad to have it cut short.)

__

“Bruce is lost in time and I can prove it!”

Jason cackled and held a popcorn bag in Steph’s direction. Steph grinned and took a handful of buttery, greasy goodness as Damian demanded, “Shrike, are you high?”

“That’s not very nice, Dami,” Dick scolded and Steph wheezed. This was just too good. She’d known that Tim was going to drop a bombshell when she sent him in Batman’s direction, but she hadn’t realized that the entertainment value would be this high. (Steph loved her on again, off again boyfriend but he had all the tact of a bull in a china shop.)

“No names in the field,” Damian growled in his Batman voice, which they all knew from experience did absolutely nothing to tamper Dick Grayson’s chaos energy. (Steph had considered giving him lessons, but so far it didn’t seem like the kid needed any help winding up big brother. He’d probably need the assist with Timmy though.)

“That’s not very nice, Batman,” Dick corrected sternly. There was an awkward pause as Damian and Tim absorbed this.

“That isn’t really better, is it?” Damian asked, tone terribly resigned.

Stephanie outright cackled and wrestled the bag of popcorn away from Jason so she could grab another handful as Tim said flatly, “No, it isn’t.”

“What were you saying about Father?” Damian sounded as if he really, really wanted to sigh, but knew that would be admitting that Dick was winning. Steph groaned and tossed the popcorn bag back to Jason as Tim launched into a highly technical and somewhat scattered explanation of what he found, which basically boiled down to the fact that Bruce had somehow gotten lost in the time stream. Looks like her soap opera was done for the night.

__

“Damian?” Bruce asked, voice rough and worn as he stepped through the portal. Steph noted absently that he’d started growing a very scraggly looking beard. Facial hair was not a good look on Bruce Wayne. (Now Slade Wilson? He rocked the silver fox facial hair look. Steph would totally tap that if he wouldn’t murder her first.)

“Father,” Damian said flatly. Then he punched Bruce in the face. Steph tumbled sideways to lean on Jason, no longer caring that her old purple costume tugged in uncomfortable places, and howled with laughter. Jason batted ineffectually at her, trying half-heartedly to shrug her off while he was in hysterics himself.

“ _Damian!_ ” Dick yelped, leaping forward to grab his big brother’s arm while Bruce lifted a hand to prod carefully at his nose.

“He deserves far worse than that for his stupidity,” Damian said coldly while Steph tried to get ahold of herself.

“That doesn’t mean you hit him! Punching people is not how we work out our feelings!” That sent Steph into a fresh round of hysterics, because punching people was 100% guaranteed the way Bruce Wayne had been dealing with his feelings for years. Damian had learned from the best, after all.

“Baby bird’s right,” Jason added not so helpfully between chuckles. “Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to teach him ever since you unassassinified him?” Damian briefly closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as if gathering his patience. Steph reflected that it was absolutely worth leaving the Clocktower for this. (Had it been a pain to find and cram herself into an outfit that she hadn’t worn since high school? Yes. Was the entertainment value worth the effort? Yes. Yes it was.)

__

“Robin, you’re going out tonight with Batman.”

“Okay,” Dick chirped and Steph watched through her cameras as the boy bounced over to lean happily against Damian’s side. Steph watched as Bruce and Damian exchanged a glance over Dick’s head.

“Father means you’ll be going out with him,” Damian said bluntly. Dick glanced up at his big brother, and whatever he saw in Damian’s face made his expression crumple unhappily.

“No! I’m your partner, not his!” Bruce flinched and Steph facepalmed, hard. She would bet dollars to donuts that both men had forgotten to tell Dick about their little agreement. She loved them both, but sometimes they could be such idiots.

“Dick-” Bruce began but the boy ignored him, clutching at Damian with white knuckled fists.

“Please don’t send me away,” Dick practically whimpered, looking like he was trying to hold back tears. “I’ll be better, I promise.” Damian’s face did the complicated thing it always did when he was feeling far too much, almost crumpling before it smoothed away, turning him into a rather morose looking statue. Steph winced. (There were some times that, if this had been a real soap opera, she would have turned off the TV for a few minutes to save herself some hurt.)

“Uh, I hate to cut in here, but did neither of you tell him?” Jason asked, spinning his helmet rapidly around in his hands in an attempt to hide his discomfort. Dick sniffled and glanced over at Jason in askance as both Bruce and Damian exchanged a glance that quickly turned awkward. “ _Seriously?_ ” Steph made a little squeaking noise of amusement and quickly slapped both hands over her mouth to muffle it.

“Bruce and Damian have decided that they’ll alternate weeks as Batman,” Tim explained succinctly from his position leaning against the massive Batcomputer console. “You’ll be going out with whoever is Batman for a little while so the criminals don’t notice.”

“So you’re not sending me back to be reconditioned?” Dick as tentatively, and Steph cooed as Damian instantly crouched down so he was eye level with the boy.

“No, of course not,” Bruce was saying, but Dick wasn’t looking at him. All the boy’s focus was on Damian.

“I promised you that I would not let that happen,” Damian said solemnly. “And I always keep my promises.”

“Okay,” Dick sniffled before flinging himself into Damian’s arms. Steph grinned sappily as the two hugged for a moment before Dick leaned back to grin at Bruce. “I’ll go get my costume!”

Steph bit down another snicker at Bruce’s dumbstruck facial expression as the little boy darted off. Damian rose then, scowling fiercely at his father. “If you hurt him or betray his trust in any way, I will end you in such a manner that even Grandfather’s Lazarus Pits won’t be able to bring you back,” he threatened. Bruce looked, of all things, proud of his oldest son and that was what did Steph in. She howled with laughter, not caring that she wasn’t currently muted and that both men were scowling at the Batcomputer. Damian and Bruce both turned to glare at her as Dick skipped back into view dressed in his Robin costume.

Steph gathered herself, still grinning from ear to ear as she brought up the opening missions for the Batfam tonight. “All right boys, ready to rock and roll?” she asked cheerily, not waiting for an answer before she continued. “Because have I got stuff for you! There’s a group in the Narrows calling themselves the Robin Hood gang, except instead of robbing from the rich to feed the poor, they’re robbing from the slightly less poor to benefit themselves, so really they’ve kind of missed the point.”

“I call dibs!” was Jason’s immediate contribution. He was almost vibrating with excitement at the prospect of banging heads in the Narrows, probably restless from his time away from his gang in Bludhaven.

“I’ll go with him,” Damian volunteered, sounding dryly resigned, but Tim was already shaking his head.

“ _I’ll_ go with him,” Tim said. “It would be better if you went with Batman and Robin for tonight.”

“Very well,” Damian agreed and Jason let out a little, excited whoop.

“Come on. Let’s go!” he called, darting towards his motorcycle. Tim followed at a more sedate pace, pulling the cowl up over his head.

“Right,” Steph said, clapping her hands together and rubbing them eagerly. “For Batman and company, I have a new villain calling himself the Condiment King, for some weird reason. He’s causing a little trouble for the police department, and I figured Batman could use a milk run after so long out of commission.” Bruce’s expression was entirely exasperated as he pulled up his cowl and turned on his heel, cape whirling out around him, heading for the Batmobile. “Have fun Captain Grumpy,” Steph called after him, cackling a little and then tapping a couple buttons to get her screens configured the way she wanted for the night. Time to get back to work. (At least until Batman reached Condiment King and her entertainment started up again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Next up, two disposed of League of Assassin heirs talk._


	3. In Between The Empty Pages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters** : Damian Wayne as Shrike and Tim Drake
> 
>  **Summary** : Damian and Tim bond over the League of Shadows and unrealistic expectations.
> 
>  **Warnings** : Vague references to psychological conditioning and verbal abuse.

_In Between the Empty Pages_

* * *

Damian landed softly on the roof of Wane Manor, hooded cloak wrapped tightly around his frame to keep out the icy rain. The roof’s only other occupant didn’t so much as twitch, his fleece pajamas long ago soaked. Drake had been different since Father retrieved him from Grandfather. There was a quiet lethality humming constantly underneath his skin, his one disastrous attempt at returning to Robin leaving garden variety thugs in the ICU, and Damian mourned the loss of the innocence he’d had before. Damian had hated the boy for that, the lack of darkness that meant Drake didn’t know what it was like to take a life, but he hadn’t wanted it destroyed. It had been jealousy, plain and simple.

Drake was listless and his gaze was frighteningly empty. He looked like a puppet with all his strings cut, sitting on the roof getting colder and colder as the hours passed. Damian sat next to him and waited for the crack in the dam, worn down by hours in the chilly rain looking back over each past choice to try to figure out which one had been the wrong one. Damian had done the same thing after Drake was taken, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong.

“Ra’s said I was going to be his ‘perfect heir,’ but he really just broke me,” Drake said at last, voice too tired to be bitter. Damian understood the sentiment.

“Grandfather said much the same to me,” Damian told the younger boy, gaze fixed on the Gotham skyline. “But his idea of a perfect heir is not something to be desired.” Beside him, Tim shuddered in silent agreement. Most of Damian’s childhood at the League of Assassins that he remembered was endless training, and never being good enough. Grandfather and Mother had expected flawlessness in everything he did while constantly reminding him that he was the son of Batman, Grandfather’s preferred heir. It had been a miserable existence.

“I broke a man’s face,” Drake admitted after another long pause, sounding miserable. “I didn’t even realize what I’d done until B started yelling at me. Starling is grounded until further notice.” That was no surprise. The League of Assassins wasn’t big on restraint when it came to fighting enemies, so Drake would have to relearn control before he seriously injured someone. Damian understood why Father would ground Drake, but he doubted that it was the best move for the younger boy’s mental health at the moment.

Damian sighed, suddenly exhausted, and unclipped the cloak from around his shoulders, dropping the hood unceremoniously over Timothy’s head. The boy startled, glancing awkwardly out from underneath the hood. “Then don’t be Starling,” Damian said seriously.

“What?” Timothy asked, sounding confused.

“Shrike has always been more violent than Batman prefers, and Oracle can keep an eye on you through the comms to let you know if you’re going to far. Besides, it is about time for me to reinvent myself again. I’m ready to move out from the Bat’s shadow.” Damian was never going to be the man that Mother and Grandfather wanted him to be, and he was not interested in waiting around in Gotham for Father to get in too deep and die. The only real reason he’d stayed in Gotham for six months after his college graduation was sitting on the roof looking a little lost.

Damian stood, satisfied that he’d said his piece and ready to get in out of the rain. He’d let Alfred know that he was going to need to help design two new costumes, since Drake would doubtlessly have some tweaks to make on Shrike’s look, before he turned in for some sleep. Damian would have plenty of work to do if he was going to move by the end of the month. He was almost off of the roof before Timothy called, “Damian?” He glanced back and the boy pushed the hood back to stare seriously at him. “Thank you.” Damian nodded once and then launched himself off of the rooftop. He’d done his duty for the night. Now it was time to turn in and get some rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Next up, Under The Red Hood_


	4. The Shortest Distance Between Point A and Point B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters** : Damian Wayne as Shrike, Jason Todd as Red Hood, The Joker, Dick Grayson, and briefly Bruce Wayne
> 
> **Summary** : Damian has allowed this mess to go on for long enough. He's going to do what he must to put a stop to Todd's little crusade.
> 
> **Warnings** : Major Character Death and some minor corpse mutilation (this makes it sound far worse than it is), brief mentions of Lazarus Pit Madness, canonical character death, and linger Court of Owls trauma.

_The Shortest Distance from Point A to Point B_

* * *

All of Gotham was in chaos, the battle between Batman and Red Hood tearing up and down the city in a distinctly unsettling way. Damian understood Todd’s frustration with Father, he even understood that the boy had taken an impromptu dunk in a Lazarus Pit far too recently for his sanity to being anything but fraying, but this whole affair was going to end in nothing but pain and tears for everyone. Damian was not about to spend the rest of his life watching Father and Todd constantly mourning how the situation had panned out. He was going to fix the mess for them and then return to Bludhaven where at least everything made a logical sort of sense.

Todd wanted the Joker dead for murdering him slowly with a crowbar and, while Batman’s delicate sensibilities might cringe back from that concept, Damian was not above murder. The insane clown had gone on living and causing chaos for far too long, and his mere presence in Gotham encouraged more trouble. Damian would take care of the matter while Father was busy dealing with another of Todd’s little inconveniences.

He suited up alone in the silence of the cave. Not his Shrike uniform in silver-grey and black, but the dark brown of his League of Assassins robes, the only gift Mother ever sent for his birthday, each arriving in a plain brown box tied with a deep purple ribbon. Each set was always a perfect fit. Father had given up years ago on trying to figure out how the packages were arriving or where Mother was getting her information from. Damian strapped on his blades, each one carefully sharpened in the nights before, and set off on the spare motorcycle to kill the Joker.

It was an entirely underwhelming endeavor. The Joker was dangerous because he was a sociopathic criminal, as clever as he was insane. He was not, however, a trained assassin. Damian slit his throat, letting the clown drown in his own blood, and then cut out his heart and pulverized it for good measure. The last thing Gotham needed was for the Joker to take a dip in a Lazarus Pit and more insane than ever. Damian was not usually one for dramatics, but Todd and Father had been splattering drama all over Gotham like a particularly ugly paint, so he thought he was due. Damian used some of the Joker’s blood to paint _Stop being so dramatic_ on the nearest wall and left. The cameras restarted from the mysterious crash five minutes after he’d left.

The next morning it’s all over the news. The Joker is dead and Damian would be willing to bet that at least half of Gotham was planning to throw a party. The only two people who would mourn were Harley Quinn and Batman. Quinn could do so much better, and Father’s disapproval didn’t bother him the way it once might have. Damian calmly buttered his toast and ignored the way Father turned to stare at him over the island in the kitchen as Alfred bustled around them, cleaning breakfast dishes.

Father didn’t seem to know what to say, practically humming with undirected fury. Damian let him, finishing his breakfast in silence and then heading back upstairs to his room. He would need to work out Todd’s safehouse and drop in on his younger brother tonight, just in case his message hadn’t been clear enough. Just after dinner his door opened and Richard crept in, wrapped in his deep red comforter. The excess fabric trailed after him like a particularly long cape and made a rustling sound as the boy padded across the carpet to climb onto the bed and snuggle into Damian’s side.

Richard had stumbled into Todd exactly once when he’d been persuaded to go out in one of Damian’s old costumes. Batkid’s startling one night return, which had been meant to show Richard how far he’d shaken the Court of Owl’s condition, had turned into a nightmare. Todd’s kidnapping had resulted in shed blood, plenty of tears, and far too many screaming night terrors, to the point where Damian had returned from patrol the past few nights to find the boy curled up on the couch staring at the Home Shopping Network with tearstained, exhausted eyes. That had been yet another compelling reason to put an end to Todd’s Lazarus Pit fueled hissy fit prematurely.

“What are you doing?” Richard mumbled into Damian’s side, eyes mostly closed as he squinted sleepily at his older brother’s computer screen.

“Searching for Todd’s bolthole.”

“Because you killed the Joker?” Richard asked. Damian glanced down at the boy, head tilted slightly. He knew Todd and Richard had interacted, at least a little, but he hadn’t suspected that it had been long enough for Todd to spell out the whole reason he’d gone on this crazy murder spree in the first place. “That’s why he was mad,” Richard explained, nuzzling closer and closing his eyes. He was slumped in a way that suggested very strongly that he was about to fall asleep.

“Yes,” Damian agreed before focusing back on the computer, narrowing down his search even further. He’d been looking at low end apartments in bad neighborhoods, trying to pin point Jason’s latest hideaway, but it occurred to him that he might be going about it the wrong way. Richard had wreaked havoc on his way out of wherever Todd had stashed him, and if the older vigilante had taken the boy just as a message to Father and not to harm him, then Todd’s safehouse would have been a good place to put him. Damian gently nudged the boy at his side, getting a little protesting whine in response. “Do you remember where Todd kept you?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” Richard mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Could you show me on the map?” Richard’s eyes opened slowly and he shuffled forward to maneuver the laptop into a batter position, poking at the keys and the mousepad with sleep drenched clumsiness. A moment later the boy was using a tool to draw a red circle around a dingy looking apartment building on a dark, dead end street. “Thank you,” Damian said and Richard let out a tired slur of syllables that could have been any number of phrases, more asleep than awake. Damian gently pet his little brother’s hair, mind racing a mile a minute as he planned out his approach.

Richard slept for an hour and a half before he startled awake, eyes wide and yellow-gold for a moment before he calmed. Richard woke easier from nightmares when he had someone next to him, though his explanations for why had been vague and slightly unsettling. The boy had more than once muttered something about coffins and storage and training before going silent and distant and refusing to speak any more on the subject. Neither Damian nor Bruce had pressed.

“You’re still here,” Richard mumbled, sleepily confused. “Thought you were gonna go find Jay.”

“I was,” Damian agreed, mind racing a mile a minute at the unexpected emergence of a nickname. “But I did not want to disturb you.” He hesitated for a brief moment, knowing that Father would be furious about what he was planning to do, but Black Canary had said that any positive interactions Richard had with others would be good for his damaged psyche. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Yes please,” Richard said, brightening up almost immediately.

“Do you want a set of my old robes or your own things?” Convincing Richard to rid himself of his Talon uniform had proved to be far too herculean a task for any of the Wayne family. The boy had cleaned it and put it carefully away in the back of his closet where it had gathered dust ever since.

“My own,” Richard replied immediately, sliding off the bed and dragging his comforter off with him. As soon as he was out of the room, Damian rose and went to change back into his assassin’s robes. Todd wouldn’t be happy about the intrusion, but he could deal with it. After all, Damian had been forced to deal with the unlikely series of ducklings Father insisted on dragging home and adopting, leaving his only child by blood with the unwanted title of older sibling. Inconveniencing Todd by showing up uninvited to his secret base was minor in comparison.

They left through Damian’s window, the oldest Wayne child not wanting his father to know where they were going. Bruce was already upset enough about the Joker’s untimely death without adding this to his list of grievances with his oldest child. The Gotham night was surprisingly silent, as if the worst of the criminals had gone into hiding after the shock of the insane clown’s murder. Damian found that he quite liked the change, short lived as it would be.

Jason’s safehouse was quiet and dark, but Damian knew well that neither factor meant there was no one home. They crept through the window and Damian was unsurprised to see a gun pointed at his head. “Put it down, Todd,” he ordered brusquely. “We need to talk.” Beside Damian, Richards’ clawed gloves curled into silent fists before slowly, slowly relaxing as the weapon was lowered.

“You killed the Joker,” Jason Todd replied, sounding distinctly wrong footed.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Damian refused to lower himself to sighing exasperatedly at his siblings. “Because Father has allowed the clown’s rampage to go on for far too long. And because I’ve watched this nonsense go on for long enough.”

“The Joker killed me,” Todd snarled. “And Bruce didn’t even bother to avenge me.”

“Superman had to stop Batman from murdering the Joker,” Damian replied. Todd gaped at him. “I certainly wasn’t going to stop Father,” Damian added when Todd continued to stare. He was unsurprised that Mother hadn’t mentioned that when she revived the murdered Starling. She had always known what details to hold back to make a situation go her way.

There was a moment when Todd visibly rebooted himself. Then he said, “Don’t think this makes B and I buddy-buddy or anything like that,” in a petulant tone. He looked rather like he was sulking.

“You met him by stealing the tires from the Batmobile,” was Damian’s response. “I hardly think you and Father had an entirely friendly relationship at the best of times.” Beside Damian’s leg, Richard giggled.

“What are you doing here, squirt?” Todd asked, attention snapping over to the younger boy.

“Watching the show,” Richard replied contentedly. From someone who had been almost entirely non-verbal after his impromptu rescue from the Court just a few months before, the full sentence was impressive. Damian brushed the feathered hood back to pet the boy’s hair, feeling Richard lean closer with a happy sigh.

“Where’d B pick you up from?” Todd asked.

Damian opened his mouth to inform Todd that it was none of his business when Richard said, “Tried to kill him.”

“Really?” Todd’s eyes went wide and he glanced at Damian for confirmation. Damian nodded. “Well, you’re my new favorite, little bird.”

This time it was Richard who glanced over at Damian in utter bemusement. Damian stared blankly back. Apparently that was enough for the little boy who mumbled, “Kay,” and went back to leaning against his big brother’s side.

“Alfred will expect you for Sunday dinner,” Damian informed Todd. Then he turned and gently tugged Richard out of the window with him, knowing they had lingered long enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Next up, Damian Wayne and the wonderful world of high school dating (or three relationships that didn't work out and one that's not a relationship, they swear)._


	5. Three Strikes (And One Fly Ball)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters** : Damian Wayne, Colin Wilkes, Tim Drake, Maya Ducard, and assorted female OCs
> 
> **Relationships** : Damian Wayne/OC, Damian Wayne/Maya Ducard
> 
> **Summary** : Three of Damian's relationships that struck out and one that's not a relationship no matter what his imbecilic classmates say.
> 
> **Warnings** : None

_Three Strikes (And One Fly Ball)_

* * *

The first girl was named Heaven. She had platinum blonde died hair and baby blue contacts paired with the kind of sharp, glittery nails that looked like they should be used to gouge someone’s eyes out. Damian took her to the Homecoming Dance because he needed a date as part of his cover for an intel mission and Stephanie Brown had laughed herself sick when he’d asked her to go with him. When she’d finally stopped laughing, she’d said, “I’m a seventh grader. There is no way I’ll get you in with the in crowd, even with your street cred as Bruce Wayne’s son, and you’ll lose your chance at a lead.”

That was where Heaven came in. She might be two years older than him and two grades higher, but she’d been eyeing him like a piece of meat since the first day of school. She’d jumped at the chance to go to the Homecoming Dance with him, and had apparently been bragging all over social media that she was going to a school dance with the Wane heir, never mind the fact that Damian was a lowly freshman. Brown had mocked him endlessly, randomly sending him screenshots of Heaven’s gushy, haughty posts and asking him how it felt to be so in demand. Damian had responded by repeatedly sending her the angry snorting emoji and threatening to block her number.

Heaven’s dress for the dance was so tiny it might as well have been classified as a shiny silver tube top, and her heels looked like they could take out an eye with very little effort. One of her pale little hands was constantly clutching at his arm, her nails pinching the flesh at his elbow as she dragged him around the tackily decked out gymnasium at Gotham Prep so she could show off her good fortune. He let her, entirely uninterested in the conversation, until they nearly collided with Jamie Corduroy.

Corduroy was a perpetually sneering super senior who was illicitly distributing a new designer drug in the streets of Gotham. The nineteen year old wasn’t the one producing the drug, but he was one of the only links Batman had uncovered, so Damian was here to investigate it on Father’s behalf. “Jaimie,” Heaven practically purred, leaning forward so that her cleavage was all but spilling out of her dress. “You’ve met Damian _Wayne_ , right?” Her fingers pinched tighter against Damian’s elbow and he withheld a displeased wince only through years of rigorous assassin training. Heaven and Corduroy had just broken up a week and a half ago and while Corduroy didn’t seem much bothered by their parting, the dyed blonde girl at Damian’s elbow had been visibly upset by the unexpected turn of events. Damian could only presume that she was attempting to show her previous fling that she had moved on to something better.

“That one freshman, right?” Corduroy said rather uninterestedly before turning his complete attention towards Damian. “Watch out for your new girlfriend. She’s just using your name to claw her way to the top.”

Heaven made a high, indignant noise that was drowned out by Damian’s tongue irritably clicking against his teeth. “She is _not_ my girlfriend.” Heaven was only here to get Damian close to James Corduroy, and she had done that admirably, but he had no romantic interest in her.

Heaven let out another annoying squawk, but Corduroy was grinning. “Oh this is just too good. Hey how about you and me leave the blonde tramp then and have a chat over by the punch bowl?”

Damian knew his next actions were going to burn this particular bridge for good, but the mission was more important than what the ignorant cretins at Gotham Prep thought of him. “Sounds good,” Damian replied, knowing he sounded more robotic than casual, but Corduroy didn’t seem to notice. The two of them left a sputtering Heaven behind, and by Monday the girl was spreading around that Damian and Corduroy were a thing and had set the whole Homecoming Dance night up to humiliate her. Two days later and James Corduroy was arrested for trying to sell a brand new designer drug to Damian Wayne and a handful of other freshman during the Homecoming Dance. Damian himself testified at the hearing and the rumors quickly died out, but Heaven never quite forgave him.

\--

The next relationship was a girl named Aaliyah Crescent, a transfer student to Gotham Prep when Damian was a sophomore. She was lovely with long dark hair and warm brown skin and long black eyelashes that curled just so. She’d smiled sweetly at Damian when he’d let her borrow a pen in Algebra II and he’d been lost. They’d gone on a handful of dates and Damian had been lost in a haze of young love so strong that Drake had commented on his uncharacteristic behavior.

It was Colin who burst Damian’s happy bubble. Colin Wilkes and Damian Wayne had been friends since they were ten. It was Damian who had found out about Colin’s unfortunate situation and what Scarecrow was planning on using him to do, so it only seemed fair that it was Colin who discovered what Damian’s mother was planning. It started with a text Colin sent him about overhearing Aaliyah talking to someone named Talia.

Damian hadn’t wanted to believe it at first, but the seed of doubt was planted. A new assassin calling herself Moonshadow had been causing all kinds of mysterious deaths and planting on of her agents at Gotham Prep was exactly the sort of thing Mother would do. The problem was that Damian didn’t want his first real girlfriend to be a League of Assassins member. He didn’t _want_ to know, but he _needed_ to know, so he set Drake on it. The boy was an unbearable annoyance that existed only to remind Damian that he wasn’t enough for Father, but Drake was also very good with computers. It took only two days before the results came in. Drake handed over enough evidence to both prove that Aaliyah Crescent was Moonshadow, and to show that she’d only been dating Damian in an attempt to sway him back over to the League of Assassins. Damian Wayne broke up with his first ever girlfriend with an epic battle over the rooftops of Gotham that sent her running back to the League of Shadows like a dog with its tail between its legs.

\--

Maya Ducard happened accidentally. In the middle of his junior year an assassin named Nobody had started wreaking havoc in Gotham and had made several strong attempts to kill Damian’s father. Damian, still recovering from having been shoved into a Lazarus Pit several months before after his untimely death at the hands of a clone Mother had named Heretic, had snapped and killed Nobody in the middle of the fourth attempt. Father had been displeased, but more worried about the way Damian had shaken with barely suppressed rage as his eyes glowed an unnatural green. When Nobody had popped up again just a month later, both Batman and Shrike had been noticeably shaken.

Nobody the second had turned out to be Maya Ducard, the daughter of the original Nobody. She had Damian had clashed several times before Grandfather had stolen Drake away. Somewhere during the frantic search for Cardinal, Maya and Damian had gone from enemies to allies to lovers. At the end of the search, once Drake had been retrieved, the pair had parted on amicable turns. Damian hadn’t seen or heard of Nobody since then, but then again he hadn’t exactly gone looking. He and Maya had built something on desperation and exhaustion, not something to last. He didn’t miss it, but sometimes on the rooftops of Gotham late at night, he missed her.

\--

Madison Keene arrived in Gotham City in January of Damian’s junior year. They were introduced when Maddie had marched over to Damian’s table in the cafeteria and plunked her tray down next to him. It had taken all of Damian’s considerable training not to jump. No one sat at his table besides Colin. His classmates all thought him too unapproachable and cold.

“I’m Madison Keene, but call me anything besides Maddie and I’ll knock your block off,” she said before giving them a cheery smile and flipping her brown fishtail braid over her shoulder. Colin smiled back before going back to his burger and Damian let out a near silent huff, expecting her to be discouraged by the lack of conversation. She wasn’t. Three weeks later Maddie came over to Wayne Manor with Colin, the two of them showing up unannounced, and Damian finally acknowledged the fact that he wasn’t getting rid of her.

They somehow ended up in charge of the Homecoming committee their senior year. Damian suspected Maddie was behind that, but by that point she’d been running his school social life for far too long for him to get her to stop, so he was stuck. Between his calculating demeanor and Maddie’s sunshine smiles they got everything organized in record time. From that point on, Homecoming basically ran itself until it was time to decorate for the dance.

Decorating was tedious. It did little to mask the actually look of the gym and with most the lights off for the dance, which Damian had complained about repeatedly. Maddie had just rolled her eyes and was in the middle of scolding him playfully when one of the freshman murmured, “Oh my gosh, they even argue like an old married couple!”

“I know, it’s adorable,” one of their fellow seniors muttered in dry exasperation. “We’re all placing bets on when Wayne finally grouchily proposes.”

Damian exchanged a questioning looking with Maddie, who shrugged. “We’re not dating they both said at the same time, Maddie’s a little more absently compared to Damian’s announce as she clambered onto his shoulder so she could better secure one of the banners.

“Yeah, sure,” the senior grumbled as he marched off. “That’s what you always say.” To Damian’s left, Colin stifled a little laugh as Damian scowled after the obnoxious senior. He wanted to argue, but it wouldn’t be worth his time to do so. Instead he wrapped an arm around Maddie’s legs to steady her as she perched on his shoulder and fiddled with the corner of a gauzy looking banner, focusing on standing very still so she didn’t fall off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Next up, Talia al Ghul should not be trusted around other people's children._


	6. Lazarus, Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Characters** : Damian Wayne as Batman, Dick Grayson as Robin, Jason Todd as Red Hood, Grant Wilson
> 
> **Summary** : Jason was not the only child Talia stole and revived in a Lazarus Pit as part of some twisted scheme.
> 
> **Warnings** : Vague reference to traumatic death, Lazarus Pit Madness, and minor Court of Owls based trauma

_Lazarus, Lost_

* * *

Damian’s little Robin was so upset he fumbled his landing on the rooftop, rolling awkwardly to his feet and scrambling under his Batman’s cloak despite the fact that Commissioner Gordon was watching the whole scene. The boy had seemed content to patrol with Red Hood around the docks when they’d left the cave an hour ago, but from the way he trembled and clung now, something had clearly changed. As if shifting the change in the atmosphere, Gordon swiftly wrapped up their conversation and headed down off the roof, leaving Batman to figure out what was going on with his partner.

It took several minutes of silence for Robin to emerge from underneath the cape, still shaky and nervous. His fingers trembled as he signed out _Talia did it_ over and over again, too anxious to use actual words.

Damian reached out a gloved hand to carefully still his littlest brother’s frantic fingers and then asked, “What did Mother do now?”

Robin opened his mouth to reply, only for nothing to come out. The boy buried his face in Damian’s cape for a moment to steady himself before pulling back and signing _Wilson’s son_.

“Jericho?” Damian questioned, confused. Last he knew, Joey Wilson was semi-retired from the hero business and living with his mother. There was no reason for Mother to go after him, and if she did, Damian had no doubt that Adeline Kane would take care of the problem. Slade Wilson’s former wife was a formidable woman.

Robin shook his head, looking frustrated. At times his words failed him, likely due to the conditioning of the Court of Owls, and his sign language was still limited. The boy hesitated a moment, obviously thinking hard, before signing _Like with Jason_. Sudden realization left Damian cold. Mother had dropped Todd into a Lazarus Pit after his death, intending to use the newly revived boy against Father. Things had not gone precisely to plan, but Todd had still wreaked havoc across Gotham, and to Father. Slade Wilson was a dangerous enemy and it was conceivable that Mother had desired a similar kind of weapon against him, should he ever turn on the League. Conveniently for her, Wilson had one child that had fallen in battle; his oldest son, Grant.

“Do you overhear something about this while you were with Hood?” Damian questioned sharply and Robin nodded in immediate reply. “Is he still at the docks?”

Robin shook his head no and made his sign for Red Hood, separate from his sign for Todd because the little boy was smart enough the know that he didn’t want to potentially link the two in someone’s mind, and then signed _follow_. Hood would be here shortly then. That was good. Robin seemed very solidly non-verbal tonight after whatever incident had upset him so badly and explaining what he and Hood had heard was likely beyond the boy’s current sign language skill level.

Damian dropped a hand down to gently pet Robin’s hair while they waited and the boy leaned heavily into him, still trembling slightly. Red Hood arrived a moment later, landing on the rooftop with a thump. “Did the squirt already tell you what we heard?” Hood asked gruffly, pulling off his helmet and tucking it under one arm.

“In a way,” Damian replied. “He mentioned that Talia had done to Wilson the same thing that she did to Father when she revived you. I presume he meant with Grant Wilson.”

“Then you know basically everything,” Hood said. “Your ex-girlfriend was sneering about how he couldn’t be trusted to do a job right down by the docks to some other League of Assassin’s goon. Robin figured out what she meant before I did and basically dropped out of the sky onto her head.”

Damian’s mouth thinned. Aaliyah Crescent had been his first real girlfriend. She’d also been planted in Gotham Prep by Mother as an attempt to draw him back to the League. Their breakup had been mess and resulted in a fight across rooftops, Damian still raging from a wounded heart. Aaliyah had improved since then, but she had made the mistake of attempting to use their former relationship against the new Batman. Robin had not been amused by her actions and had reacted accordingly. Some nights Damian could almost forget that he was working with a small but lethally trained assassin, but that had not been one of them. Aaliyah Crescent had walked away from the encounter, but with a wound that would scar dangerously near her left eye.

“She’s still alive, by the way,” Hood added. “But I had a hell of a time pulling him away from her. Then he limped away into the shadows while I was trying to talk him down from the panic attack he worked himself up to when he realized what he’d done.”

“It is unlikely that she will remain in Gotham,” Damian said, gaze focused on Gotham’s shadowy skyline. “But fortunately, I know where she will likely be headed.” Mother had told him, all those years ago when she’d still been trying to sway him back to her side, where she’d kept Todd before he was ready to be unleashed on the city. “Hood, you and Shrike will need to watch the city. Robin and I will be retrieving Wilson’s wayward son.”

“Good luck,” Hood said, knowing exactly what kind of place Damian was going to be walking into. Damian dipped his head once in acknowledgement and then gently guided Robin off the roof.

\--

He was burning, burning, burning, chest blazing like it was filled with hot coals. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, could barely feel his father catching him as he fell. Then, nothing.

_Green_. It roared like a dragon, swallowed him whole. His lungs filled with liquid that felt like tar. His muscles screamed like they were on the verge of snapping. It filled him, that green, consumed him entirely and forced him to swim. His head broke the surface to the liquid, but not the green. It stayed, growled and snapped in his veins, until he felt like he had never surfaced at all.

\--

The mountain temple was growing old. Damian had landed the plane far below the peak, knowing there would not be enough space to land on the ledge that housed it. He and Richard had hiked the steep path to it and now they stood in the freezing wind that was whipping snow off piles on the jagged edges of jutting rocks, staring at the slowly crumbling temple. Richard was shivering violently, as if he were just coming out of hypothermia. Damian had bundled the boy up as much as possible, but now was regretting bringing him. He had forgotten how severely unable Richard was when it came to handling the cold. Presumably it would be warmer inside, but based on the crumbling facade, Damian wasn’t hopeful.

Snow had drifted inside the building in little piles where it had been blown in through the slightly open doors. The air inside seemed even colder, as if the carved stone floor and walls had soaked up any lingering heat. Richard, still shivering a miserable looking, wandered silently out from Damian’s shadow, gaze fixed intently on the floor. He seemed to be looking for something, likely a trapdoor in the floor. It was a good thought. The League of Assassin’s was only marginally less fond of secret rooms than the Court of Owls was.

Damian began search as well, scuffing his boots carefully across the heavy stone blocks that made up the floor, searching for a loose one. Richard shuffled along the other half of the room like a drowsy zombie, staring at the floor as if it held the secrets to the universe. The boy could be frighteningly single minded when he was focused on something. It was remarkably hard to get his attention during those times, and on one particularly high risk mission Todd had actually had to pin the boy’s hand to the wall with a knife to keep him from being spotted by Bane. Red Hood had been especially nasty to criminals for the month afterward, which had displeased Father, but Damian at least understood not knowing what to do with guilt.

Richard found the trap door first, after almost fifteen minutes of careful searching. The boy had delicately placed his foot on a pressure pad, felt the stone depressing, and had jerked back with a wheezing little cry of fright. Damian spent ten minutes patiently working the chilled child down from a panic attack and trying aggressively not to think of what the Court had activated with pressure pads that would have trained Richard to react like that. When they both were sufficiently calm, Damian depressed the tile and a section of the floor suddenly slid back to reveal a shadow covered staircase. The two exchanged a silent glance, far too used to the dramatics of their respective previous organizations to be anything but exasperated, and then made their way down below.

It was warmer in the secret room than it had been upstairs in the temple. Ornate salt lamps cast a rosy glow off the rough rock walls and a steaming pool of blue water dominated the center of the room the stairs led into. Richard shoved his faux fur lined hood back and crept closer to the pool, shivers slowly beginning to fade away. Damian trailed silently behind the boy, eyes scanning the room. There was a low bench made of pale wood against a far wall, near an open doorway, a dark wooden bucket beside it. When Damian crossed over to peer inside, he found long bandage strips stained with blood. Between what Todd had reported he’d overheard and the bandages, Damian thought it safe to assume that Wilson was injured.

“Come,” Damian said and Richard rose from where he was crouched near the edge of the pool, making his way over to stand in Damian’s shadow.

The two made their way through the arched doorway and into the next room. There was a man who appeared to be several years older than Damian. He was wrapping fresh, white bandages around his torso. His hands were steady but there was a slight hesitation in his motion when he reached toward the left side which suggested that he was pulling on fresh stitches on his right. Damian very deliberately allowed his next step to echo. The man’s head snapped around and Damian found himself looking at Grant Wilson.

Wilson lunged forward with a furious snarl, eyes glowing poison apple green. Richard wisely ducked aside into one of the few shadows of the room. As soon as the boy was cleared, Damian weaved around Wilson’s charge. He had no desire to go tow to tow with someone who had taken HIVE’s version of his father’s super soldier serum. The Lazarus Pit and its related madness tended to augment a person’s strange further, along with their rage, so Damian would not be facing this confrontation head on. Instead he removed a dart from a bag in one of the interior pockets of his own cloak. The dart was tipped with a high dosage of a medical grade tranquilizer, enough to take Wilson down in a matter of minutes. It wouldn’t keep him down long, not with the super serum enhancing his healing and flushing out the drug, but it didn’t have to. It only needed to last long enough to get him to the plane.

Damian ducked and weaved around strikes that could have otherwise been deadly. He found himself rather unnerved by Wilson’s silence. He had grown far too used to Gotham’s rogues chattering away about their master plans like largely manic made for TV supervillains. Damian was strongly against monologuing, considering it a foolish endeavor, but he was not above some mid-battle taunting. Richard was much the same, though the boy did tend to fight in almost complete silence, unless the villain in question was Riddler. Richard was oddly fascinated by the man’s riddles and Nygma, in response, had quickly softened when it came to Robin. Generally, the two played riddle guessing games on the edges of the battle while Batman and company took care of the goons. It had become a largely stress free experience and Dinah Lance had noted that the arrangement had done positive things for Richard’s mental health, a resigned tilt to her mouth and amusement dancing in her eyes.

This fight was not a stress free experience. Damian had not intended to drag it on so long, but Wilson was proving incredibly difficult to get a clear shot at with the dart, and he only had one shot. Richard was shadowing them around the edges of the room, never getting close enough to be within arm’s reach of Wilson, and for some reason the man had quickly decided to dismiss the boy. Damian knew that was a mistake. Richard had gravely injured Father when the Court had sent the boy as an assassin, and only Damian’s timely intervention had prevented the boy from getting the upper hand. Damian tossed the dart swiftly past Wilson’s head, earning a sharp bark of laughter from the mercenary, and Richard caught it. Swift as an eel, Richard lunged forward and stabbed the dart sharply into Wilson’s neck.

Wilson swore and whirled around, aiming a powerfully backhand at Richard that the boy easily dodged. Richard slithered out of the way of the next strike, seeming almost boneless as he weaved and dodged. Damian was proud of him for not pulling out his knives and striking back. He kicked hard at the back of Wilson’s knee and when the man stumbled, Richard lunged forward to kick at his temple. Wilson grabbed the boy’s foot with surprising swiftness and tossed him aside, though not hard enough to send him crashing into the wall. Damian took advantage of the distraction to kick Wilson’ firmly in the back of the head. Wilson tumbled forward with a growl and tried to rise to his feet, only to stumble. He pushed himself laboriously upward, only to teeter when he was almost to his feet and then collapse. Damian and Richard exchanged a tired glance over Wilson’s unconscious body. Then they moved, Richard darting upstairs to go fetch the plane while Damian heaved Wilson up in a fireman’s carry. For the first time in a while, the way he took after Father’s bulky frame was good for something other than being the Bat.

\--

He woke up to the squeaking of bats. Grant Wilson cracked open his eyes and found himself staring upward at the very high ceiling of a cave. Hundreds of bats seemed to be hanging from various parts of the roof, some of them ruffling their wings restlessly before settling again. Grant tried to sit up and found himself jerked back down by rather heavy restraints. “Those were built to restrain Superman,” a cool voice informed him. “I doubt you will be able to muster enough strength to break them now that the majority of the Lazarus has been flushed out of your system.”

Grant became aware of the way he was practically sticking to the medical cot, his own sweat drying tackily against his skin. There was an IV in his arm, but all that aside he felt far better than he had in a long time. The green roaring in his head was silent. He could feel it still there, but it was lurking far at the back of his mind, sated with the bloodshed he’d spread. He breathed out and then wrenched his arms upwards, snapping the sides of the bed. Then he very carefully sat up. There was a slightly younger man sitting in a computer chair, spun around the face what looked like the infirmary Grant was in. He had dark hair and green eyes, and did not look at all impressed by Grant’s actions.

“Looks like your restraints have a design flaw,” Grant said, voice raspy from disuse. Under the influence of the Lazarus Pit, he hadn’t been much of a talker.

“Yes,” the man said. “I will have to rectify another of Father’s mistakes it seems.”

“Who is your father? And where is this place?” Grant demanded, carefully reaching down to undo the straps around his legs. The man did nothing to stop him.

“You are in the Cave,” the young man said, and something about the way he said cave gave it a capital letter in Grant’s mind. “And Father is not the issue here. Mother is entirely at fault for this situation and I am very displeased with her.”

“Your mother?” Grant’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the young man. There was something familiar about him, but Grant couldn’t quite place what. His mind was still too fuzzy from whatever sedative he’d been given to place it.

“Yes. Talia al Ghul.”

“Ah,” Grant said, feeling a little bit breathless.

“Yes,” the young man agreed. “You were declared dead several years ago. Mother obviously decided that she required insurance against your father and revived you in one of the Lazarus Pits. My brothers and I recently learned about your existence and decided to retrieve you. You will stay here until we determine that you are safe to be around civilians. Then you will be free to leave. Please do not go upstairs. Alfred would be very displeased.” Then he rose and flowed across the room to climb a distant set of stairs. Grant watched him go, feeling as if his entire world had been upended. After a moment, he lay back on the cot. He’d figure out his next move tomorrow, when his head didn’t feel like a bowling ball being cracked between a giant’s fingers. For now, he was going to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Next up, a young Talon attempts to assassinate Batman._


End file.
